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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25816762">somewhere in nineteen</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/empires/pseuds/empires'>empires</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>DCU (Comics)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Slice of Life</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 12:27:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Underage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,827</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25816762</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/empires/pseuds/empires</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sixteen-year-old Jason Todd knows there's opportunity, and then there's <em>Opportunity</em>, and he's never been the one to miss a chance to help him survive on the streets of Gotham.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dick Grayson/Jason Todd</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>276</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>JayDick Summer Exchange 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>somewhere in nineteen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/3ssen/gifts">3ssen</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Thank you for all the wonderful prompts! I had a very hard time deciding which one to go with, which is a great problem to have.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was the dead of night in the city of Gotham, and a dense creeping fog consumed the silent streets and the narrow alley where Jason Todd knelt twisting a tire iron with all his strength. </p><p>Moisture seeped through his hooded sweatshirt, soaking his hair, and chilling his hands. His teeth chattered and he had to sniff every three seconds to keep his face clean while he worked.</p><p>It was pure luck, and a little bit of hunger, that sent him down this particular alleyway after his first attempts at swiping tires had been quick to go wrong. In his escape, he’d almost ran past the shape darkly gleaming in the shadows. Something told him to slow down, take a closer look. Jason was alive thanks to instinct, and it led him to another find. The Batmobile alone on a foggy night.</p><p>He should have stopped at one tire, but the alley stayed quiet--no alarms blaring, no curious pedestrians wandering nearby. So, he had pushed on to the next tire, and then the third. The final tire stubbornly clung to the wheel stud. Frustrated, Jason swiped at his face.</p><p>“Shit,” he hissed, shaking out the stinging hand that collided with the Batmobile’s tire rim. “Shitty nuts. Why are you on so. Freaking. Tight!?” He shoved the tire iron between each word. Finally, the final lug nut popped free with a metallic ping. He quickly snatched it from the ground and put it into his pocket.</p><p>“To keep tires on, generally. But I guess that function is nothing in the face of perseverance, huh?”</p><p>Jason jumped at the voice coming from behind him. He swung around; tire iron raising to defend himself from unexpected danger in the dark and stopped in his tracks, stunned. Balanced on the stack of three military grade tires was Robin the Boy Wonder.</p><p>For a split second, Jason thought he was dreaming, some idle fantasy of seeing Gotham’s Boy Wonder again. But he wasn’t dreaming. Robin was real and standing tall as the gargoyles atop the old churches, strange, silent, and cruelly beautiful above Jason. The vibrant colors of his uniform were darkened by the thick fog, and his shadowed expression looked dangerous, nothing like the laughing boy Jason once spied swooping through the sky all those years ago.</p><p>“Robin?” he asked, breathlessly, and received a small grin in reply. He edged away from the vehicle. The glowing eyes of Robin’s mask merely followed his movements.</p><p>The moment stretched on for nerve wracking seconds--Jason calculating the distance to the street and Robin watching him with that small, unnerving grin on his face. Jason cleared his throat and then slowly brought the tire iron down to his side.</p><p>“Look, the tires are all there. Lug nuts too. I’ll even leave this here.” Jason waggled the tire iron before dropping it to the ground with a clang then fished the lug nuts from his pockets. They rolled to a stop across the concrete. “That's everything, alright. So you can just. Let me go?”</p><p>If anything, Robin’s smile grew brighter. The mask couldn’t disguise what the world already knew: Robin is so good looking it makes Jason’s breath catch and his heart thump hard in his chest.</p><p>Flushing, Jason kicked one foot backwards prepared to increase the distance, but that movement evoked a different response from Robin. His head tilted slightly as if marking Jason's position. The first move made since appearing out of thin air and the tension increases. Jason halted his retreat.</p><p>“I might,” Robin said.</p><p>“Might what?" Jason replied, proud that his voice hadn’t cracked.</p><p>"Might let you go."</p><p> "Okay," Jason drew the word out while he tries to think through a real escape plan, "You looking to negotiate or something?” </p><p>“Or something. I’m going to ask you three questions. You answer all three honestly, and we'll see what happens.”</p><p>Frowning, Jason eyed Robin. “Doesn't seem fair.”</p><p>Robin dropped to the ground with a huff of laughter and took a step towards Jason. He seemed like a giant even though they were close in height--mask, cap, and shadows giving him an unearthly appearance. “I literally caught you in the middle of jacking the tires off of my boss’s car.”</p><p>Okay, so maybe the boy wonder had a point. Jason cleared his throat.</p><p>“Go ahead with your questions, man.”</p><p>Robin held up one glove-covered finger. “Why did you do this?”</p><p>“Give me another question,” Jason immediately replied. Thinking the reason sounded stupid in his head so saying it out loud? He didn’t want to do that.</p><p>“Okay,” Robin drawled, “What were you going to do with the tires?”</p><p>“Sell one maybe. Post a vid on ReelTings or InstaReels with a link to Cash Fund Me. And before you get all preachy on me, I won’t listen to shit you say about it. You ain’t ever been hungry on these streets, alright. At least your boss can afford to replace a tire.”</p><p>Robin closed  his eyes for a second. It was weird that it feels weird with the glow gone. Jason tried to get a clear look at them through the soupy air. That mask probably had some kind of ultra violet, infrared technology. Maybe even a lie detector test. No wonder Robin stressed being honest. Shit, he probably took a thousand pictures, video, and ran Jason through the system before Jason even opened his mouth. Jason blinked and found Robin staring at him again, shoulders squared, voice determined.</p><p>"If you did all that, wouldn't it be easy for us to find you? Did you think of that?"</p><p>The question left Jason as flat footed as the first question and he gaped at Robin while embarassment surged through him. He glared up at the hero. "No. Not really."

</p><p>“Okay, last question. Where are your parents?</p><p>Jason’s gaze faltered. He struggled with the way Robin’s voice lodged into the cracks in his wall and tugged the words from his mouth. “Don't got any.“</p><p>The look he received from that answer, Jason didn't like it at all. He swallowed down his anger until it's a numb wedge in his throat that makes him sound older and without a fucking care in the world. "That’s three. You gonna let me go?</p><p>Robin’s lips parted and then closed again, the shape of regret on his lips. Jason knew that look, and it pissed him off. </p><p>“So you’re not gonna let me go, huh? Figures though I didn’t expect Robin to be a liar too,” Jason snarled. “Well, here’s a question for you, boy wonder. Why the fuck did you try and give me hope if you were jut gonna snatch it away again?”</p><p>“I said that I <em> might </em>, but it’s not up to me anymore, kiddo.” Robin’s voice carried strong and clear through the fog.</p><p>Jason felt the presence before he saw it looming to the side. Incredibly tall with muscle definition hammered into what had to be 100 pounds of armor wrapped in a long cape and actually damn bat ears attached to a striking mask that covered most identifying face features. The goddamn Batman stalked toward him.</p><p>The very idea of what would happen when he put Jason in cuffs made him feel faint. But he straightened his shoulders and sneered at the urban myth.</p><p>“I don’t suppose you’ll consider letting me go.”</p><p>Batman leaned forward. The bulk of his body blocked the streetlamp at the end of the alley and his voice growled like thunder in the cold night.</p><p>“Not a chance.”</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The next three days were a whirlwind of movement taking Jason from the juvenile detention center to a new group home with a brief stop before a judge at the Juvenile Justice Court. He met his case worker, Tolliver Donaldson, immediately after, a tall, perpetually sweating man who seemed to lose papers in his mass of file folders. </p><p>In the two years since they’ve met, the case worker hadn’t done anything except cement Jason’s belief that the broken system would never be fixed because the well-meaning people inside could barely push paperwork let alone make change.</p><p>“Jason, Jason. Jason Todd,” Tolliver muttered, dragging spit-wet fingertips along the edges of his files. He idly picked up a stray sheet and used it to mop at his temples.</p><p>That’s what happened to everyone’s notes, Jason supposed.</p><p>Finally, Tolliver pulled a thick file folder free from the stacks spilling over his desk. He began reading through the crips white papers at the top, which are the latest in Jason's history with the department. 

</p>
<p>“Well, Jason, I’m not sure what you did, but your case is being heavily scrutinized.”</p><p>Curious, Jason lifted his head. That didn’t sound good at all. “What does that mean?”</p><p>“It means you’ve been matched with a foster home.”</p><p>Jason pushed up from his slouch. “Already?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“But I don’t want to be fostered.” Jason made that very clear each time he skated into the system. Every questionnaire and not-so-subtle evaluation ended with the same statement. Group homes were better, less invasive. He didn’t have to worry about some well-meaning sap walking around on eggshells around him or the way they avoided his gaze when they walked him back into the system. He’d done that enough before his mom… left.</p><p>“You’ve made that very clear. But there’s been a lot of changes made lately. Good changes.”</p><p>Jason snorted. “That’s hard to believe.”</p><p>“You’re old enough to start paying attention to the news. DA Dent has added curbing delinquent behavior to his platform for next year’s elections. Our entire department is being made a priority. Bigger budget, a lift on the hiring freeze, better matching for foster homes, and they're finally going to upgrade our case management software so I can finally get these folders off my desk.” Tolliver leaned back in his chair with a relived sigh.</p><p>“Dent? As in Harvey Dent?" Jason laughed. "Okay, I’ve seen enough news to know he’s a villain. Like, tommy gun toting, halloween mask wearing badguy. Like the ones Batman fights." If that isn't the height of Gotham's stupidity. A guy like Two Face gets to walk around free while Jason is being strung up in the system for unsuccessfully stealing tires. From an illegally parked vehicle.</p><p>“Harvey Dent is a highly-respected prosecutor in the city. All that hullabaloo last year, well. He’s back and better than before. And he can bring in the big donors to Juvenile programs too. Homes got extra funding this year too, which is a good thing for you. Get you in fast. Get you out faster.”</p><p> “You mean Bruce Wayne is paying you guys to do a good job now?”</p><p> His social worker sighed heavily. “Come on, Jason. It wouldn’t hurt you to try with this one. Your foster parent has been deeply vetted. She’s a good person with a good home.”</p><p> Like he hadn’t heard that before. “What’s her name?”</p><p> “Dr. Thompkins.”</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“Your bedroom has its own bathroom, and it connects to what used to be a sitting room. I think it makes for a good study. What do you think?”</p><p>Doctor Thompkins, “Call me Leslie,” was a trim woman with graying hair and a patient smile. She barely cleared Jason’s chin, and seeing how he hadn’t quite hit his major growth spurt, he was inclined to think of her as tiny. But her stature did nothing to hide the fierce gleam in her eyes. </p><p>Jason set his bag down on a perfectly centered dresser sitting along the wall beside the hallway door and slowly looked across his new room.</p><p>The space was clean and smelled vaguely of lemon, like the rest of the house. It looked like some teenager’s room he had seen on tv shows where the plucky kid has mundane adventures made exciting by a laugh track. Across the room sat a comfortable looking bed nestled between two tall windows. It was covered with deep blue quilting and these square little red pillows that gave the impression of being soft as hell. Jason carefully skirted the gray carpet that spread from under the bed to a comfortable chair resting in front of the study door. The carpet looked new, and he’d learned that gritty shoes have no place on quality furnishings the hard way in another foster home.</p><p>“There’s a lot of red here,” he said, gingerly pressing down on the bed. </p><p>The color was everywhere; in the curtains, in the abstract art on the walls, and mixed into the muted oranges and steel grays of the decorations tastefully placed around the room. The small, plastic basketball sitting on the nightstand was also red, and stamped with the Hudson University logo, matching the red hoop tacked at the top of the closet door. He spied clothing in the closet too, and some of them were red.</p><p>Leslie arched an elegant brow. “You don’t like it?”</p><p>It was his favorite color, actually. Red reminded him of the sunsets over Gotham Bay bridge and the moist insides of his favorite cake that the old lady who used to keep him on weekends used to make. Red velvet. </p><p>“It’s cool.” He walked towards the bookshelf that stood opposite the bed. There were five rows filled with books and magazines. His fingers balled into fists to keep from touching.</p><p>“There are more books in the study. Your laptop too.”</p><p>Jason’s ears perked up. No one ever thought to decorate his temporary rooms with more than generic boyhood bedding let alone offered him the use of a laptop. And she called it <em> his </em>laptop. Jason crossed to the doorway separating his bedroom from the study and leaned inside. </p><p>It was a smaller room with a desk, a rolling chair, and a lamp settled between two more bookshelves filled with books.  A narrow carpet divided the room between what was obviously the study area and the entertainment area, which came with a low wooden futon and a nice tv. Even had a remote sitting on the footrest in front of it. </p><p>“A friend of mine has a son who’s good with computers. He added some stuff on there to keep you entertained.” </p><p>“Help you pick out the TV too?”</p><p>“And suggested the basketball hoop and that row of books.” She pointed to the line of thick books on the shelf. There are too many titles to absorb at once, but they seemed a good mix of genres including the classics. Exciting. Old books were an adventure all their own. </p><p>Leslie pushed off from the wall. “Take some time to settle in. Dinner will be ready when you come down.”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>Dinner, Leslie explained, had no set hour because she often spent late evenings at the clinic. She served them each a bowl of rice with a heaping of slow cooked chuck roast and vegetables. It smelled so good, Jason’s mouth watered and his teeth ached, eager for his first meal all day. Then she added a basket of buttered rolls and a tall glass of iced tea on the table.</p><p>Jason shifted in his seat hoping to drown out the obscene growl of his stomach.</p><p>“I’ve become the slow cooker queen. Simmer something in the pot all day and voila`, hot food when I make it home.” Her fork folds the vegetables and the rice together several times before she lifts the fork. “At least it tastes good.”</p><p>The first bite almost hurt to eat, but the flavor was so rich, so filling, Jason could only savor the pain of chewing and swallowing something good after so long. The next bite was perfect though, and he sighed to himself.</p><p>“Tastes great. Thanks,” he muttered, then bit into a roll.</p><p>Jason hadn’t wanted to eat two bowls, but he did with very little insisting. His stomach felt round from the food, and he settled into his chair so he could pat the fullness.</p><p>“So,” he drawled. “What are the ground rules?”</p><p>Leslie faltered on her way back to the table, two cups filled with fruit in her hands. “Ground rules?”</p><p>“You know, the ground rules. I can do this but not that. I can go here but not there. Curfew. Staying only in my room." He chewed his bottom lip waiting for Leslie to respond, but her expression seemed confused like. Like she hadn’t even considered it. “Chores?” he added helpfully, and she finally nodded.</p><p>“I suppose we should have some ground rules. Let me think about this for a second.” She handed him his portion of desert--berries and cream--and sat down, a thoughtful look on her face. “Okay, lights out at 10. That includes loud music, television, or your video games. I keep early days and late nights. You do your own laundry and keep your rooms clean. If you cook, clean up after yourself in the kitchen. Sound reasonable?”</p><p>Jason nodded, surprised. It was more than reasonable. It was practically an invitation to live here rather than fill the space like a placeholder for the real kid. She’ll figure that out eventually. Then the doctor surprised him again by asking about his ground rules.</p><p>“Mine?”</p><p>“Of course. We’re just getting to know each other, so having a clear understanding of our boundaries and what’s important to us is important.”</p><p>Jason stirred his dessert together considering his answer. “What kind of doctor are you again?”</p><p>“I’m a general practitioner with a focus on family medicine.”</p><p>“So not a psychiatrist.” </p><p>A faint smile crossed Leslie’s lips. “No, but my practice crosses into several other medical focuses.”</p><p>Well, she was probably going to try and diagnose something through his answers regardless of if she were a head shrink or a body doctor. Jason drummed his fingers on the table deep in thought. Talking about it here seemed like the better option. He could only hope it didn’t come back to bite him in the ass.</p><p>“Look, you seem like a nice lady, so if this ain’t working out for you, let me know before you contact the Juvie reps. Give me time to prepare.” And a head start, Jason thought. “Other than that…. Knock before coming into my room?”</p><p>Leslie pinned him with that same look from before, eyebrow raised like she’s amused or something. ““Sounds like a reasonable start. We’ll revisit that list later. Just in case.”</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Dr. Thompkins resided inside a pre-war brownstone house in Skinner’s Row, one of the original Gotham townships just north of the Gotham River. Her practice was nearby  in an aging storefront a block east of the neighborhood’s main thoroughfare. The streets were quiet and tree-lined, the buildings worn but cared for from the careful gardens kept behind low fences or on balconies to the honest-to-god trash bins left on the side of the roadway instead of the piles of trash bags waiting for pick up.</p><p>At the heart of Skinner’s Row was a large park shaped like a pentagon. Five roads spawned from those points like spokes on a wheel. That park used to be the home of the Titwilder family and eventually became the town council building in the late 17th century before being purchased by a grain dispensary in the 1850s. The storehouse was long gone, but the cobbled roads inside the park remained as a testament to the power of Gotham’s Preservation Society, according to the historical plaques inside the park. </p><p>The southern road passed by an enormous Catholic church with grand stone arches, curved stained-glass windows, and gargoyles peering down from the rooftops. His second Saturday in the house, Jason spent an hour exploring the south facing street before it turned into 10th Avenue. He could’ve walked all the way down to the old Clock Tower if he had a mind. But Jason decided to save that walk and the other main streets for another time. He was still getting used to Skinner’s Row proper.</p><p>Walking under the tree-lined streets felt different from Crime Alley and the Narrows, the two other old Gotham areas Jason used to haunt after his dad disappeared and his mom…. Left. It was the little things that caught his attention. Like the fact that the streetlamps always flickered on at dusk, all of them. Not a single dead bulb lasted more than a day. The corner bodegas stayed open past dark; their cheery lights twinkling at the corners, and the attendants always offered him a quick smile from behind the protective barrier. Always. Jason hadn’t seen this many teeth since he last visited the dentist five years ago.</p><p>After visiting three different bodegas in an hour, Jason returned to the brownstone a bottle of juice, Zesti Twist, and the distinct sense that he’d entered an alternative universe. </p><p>They talked about those on the news a couple times recently. Alternative realities and dimensional pockets that appeared for a day or two until some superhero arrived to put things to right. The Superman, the Flash, or the Green Flashlight guy would always be shown escaping some collapsing circle of light to the relieved cheers of onlookers. Had anyone thought to tell them that one popped up in the middle of Batman’s city?</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Two weeks after moving into Dr. Thompkins’s home, Jason completed his first visitation from his case worker. To both their surprise, Jason had been hesitant to say the right things to say to get back to the group home. Every answer given was an very honest and reasonable responses to the questions he memorized years ago. Finally, Tolliver pinned Jason with a startlingly clear look and asked him what was the deal.</p><p>"It could be worse," he replied, confused himself. "And if it gets to worse, I'll let you know." It was the closest Jason could get to the real answer: he liked it here.

</p><p>Being enrolled in a new school was a gift. Hawthorne High was a part of the city’s magnate program for science, mathematics, and art, and obviously loaded with Wayne Foundation money. The entire school was filled to the brim with Wayne Tech from the flatscreen wall at the school entrance to the assigned Wayne Tech tablets in every class. Even the science experiments came from the company’s educational labs. Despite an intermittent school record, Jason did well in his entrance exam and was allowed into an accelerated program, where he was able to sit down and learn. Jason liked that part the most. Being able to go to class, take notes, ask questions, and get answers, ace tests. It felt good that he ignored the new kid bullshit from his classmates knowing they would let it go eventually.</p><p>If a new school helped cement his decision, Dr. Thompkins sealed it with a little bow. The doctor was nice enough, unobtrusive, smart, and careful with everything she did--from the neat way she opened the mail to the precise chop used to create fruit snacks or vegetable slices before they were dumped into the slow cooker. That was another thing about Dr. Thompkins. She was honest about who she was and how she did things, and she asked Jason about his opinions when they did converse instead of dumb stuff like how his day went. Plus, three meals a day and a bedroom with a lock on the door were luxuries he couldn’t even remember. Staying a bit longer might not be that bad. </p><p>The only thing he didn’t like about living with his new foster parent were the nightmares. He didn’t mention those during his evaluation or the fact that he was so relaxed in the house that the nightmares managed to slip past his defenses in a way they never could on the streets when he could only focus on survival. Now, the dreams twisted up inside him after dark, bad memories boiling up from his subconscious no matter how many times he reminded himself that things were different now. He was bigger. He was stronger. He was alive.</p><p>Unfortunately, none of those things mattered in his nightmares.</p><p>A month into moving into a new foster home, Jason woke to a sweat-soaked bed and a throat from shouting. He took a shower and peeled the sheets from the mattress when a knock sounded at his door.</p><p>Jason glared down at the bedding. “Yeah?”</p><p>“Please come downstairs when you’re through.” Leslie’s voice was gentle but carried all the way to Jason’s shame. Embarrassed, he flushed and nodded despite her inability to see him.</p><p>After gathering himself, Jason took the laundry room downstairs. The washing machine swished slowly in front of him, water running high and hot. When he stepped out the cycle was almost over, and Leslie sat at the kitchen table. She wore a full robe and slipper set that was only slightly faded with age, and her hair is neatly swept into her no-nonsense bun. She gestured at Jason to take a seat. </p><p>A mug slides across the table at him. Jason curls his hands around it and sniffs. Cocoa.</p><p>“A friend once told me that it’s a mandatory comfort for growing boys.”</p><p>Jason frowned. “And you believed him?”</p><p>“I’ve seen the results,” she said. “Two for two in my opinion. Go ahead, drink up. It’ll settle you.”</p><p>It wasn’t like he had much else to do anyway, Jason thought, and took a sip. It was hot but not scalding, sweet but not cloying. Rich but not enough to make his tongue curl or his head spin. It might just be the best cup of hot cocoa he ever had.</p><p>Leslie shot him a knowing smile. “It’s his recipe, not mine. But it is very good, isn’t it?”</p><p>Jason nodded before taking a sip. Maybe it was the comfortable silence or the tiredness urging him to say something for the old lady. </p><p>“I’m okay. If you wanted to ask me about it.” He paused, heel tapping on the floor while he picked his colors</p><p>“Jason, I don’t want to pry, but this isn’t the first time you’ve had a nightmare like that is it?” The worry was evident on her face, and Jason didn’t want to see it. He shifted in his seat.</p><p>“I’ve been sleeping better here than anywhere else.”</p><p>“I’m glad to hear that, Jason, but this last one sounded very concerning. Would you like to talk about it?” </p><p>Jason scowled down at his cocoa in silence.</p><p>“If not with me, with someone else? A professional? I know you’re resistant to using someone recommended by your caseworker, but I do have connections in the medical community. We can find someone you feel comfortable with.”</p><p>The idea of talking to another therapist made his skin crawl. Talking to Dr. Thompkins was the better choice. Yet, he wondered if there would be any consequences. Saying the wrong thing might get him sent away. He would hate that more. He glanced at Dr. Thompkins’s kind eyes and sighed.</p><p>“It’s not. It’s not like it’s some big thing. My mom. She left. She died. I found her.” Jason’s shoulders curled in at the wave of memories assaulting him. The silence. The broken bathroom door. The way she had laid curled in the bathtub like normal. A bottle of pills on the porcelain edge, a faint smile on his mother’s lips. “That’s the dream. And then I’m all alone.”</p><p><em> Don’t leave me here alone! </em> His childish shout still echoed in his mind.</p><p>Leslie reached out and wrapped a careful hand around his fist. Her soft, papery skin that smelled like lavender liniment and chocolate. “Jason, you are not alone anymore. I am right here if you need me. Right here. Okay.”</p><p>Jason nodded, not trusting himself to say anything when his throat was this tight and the ghosts of his darkest days were all around him.</p><p>They sat the next half hour together just like that, two figures huddled around the table in the night. Somehow, Jason managed to fall asleep after that, fitful and without interruptions. Must be something in that cocoa.</p><p>Six weeks after moving into Dr. T’s home, Jason discovered he had settled into a routine. </p><p>The realization struck him on a Tuesday morning when he was printing out a lab report for his biology class with the scent of breakfast-- slow cooked berry crunch that’ll come with a side of yogurt--wafting up the stairs. He woke to the sound of silence instead of violence or illness, prepared for class, ate breakfast with Dr. T, went to school, ace a quiz or a test, and then came back to the house.</p><p>Was this what normalcy looked like? Jogging down the stoop and having your neighbor wave at you and wish you well on tests? Walking through the school hallways instead of hiding from truancy officers so they wouldn’t see the bruises and take you away? Opening up a fucking lunchbox at a clean lunch table with a random post-it note with grocery items that sweated onto the back of your apple slices and nut butter snack?</p><p>The very idea that Jason had achieved some type of normal life in such a short time felt like a fantasy. Yet it was made very real by the informational packet handed to him during Civics and Society, his last class of the day. The bell rang and his teacher urged them to get their parents or guardians to review the informational packet and return it signed before Monday.</p><p>The words “Work Study Guidelines” glared up at him from the photocopied page. A quick glance around the room told Jason absolutely fuck all about what this was about only that his classmates were excited. Their droning voices dug into his ears like a saw buzzing through wood. He eyed the line forming at his teacher’s desk and decided to read over it himself once he got to the doc’s place. </p><p>The first stirring of fall filled Gotham. It was in the shift of humid air dissipating into something a bit drier and cooler. The first leaves began shedding their summer green. Jason noticed all this on the walk home from school. The little things he never had the opportunity to before.</p><p>Back in the Narrows, seasons passed unnoticed and unappreciated. Your eyes were better served watching the corners. Seeing what cars were crawling up the block. The kinds of things that helped you survive when survival was the only choice you had. Now, Jason didn’t know the name of the guy walking into the bodega with purposeful strides. He didn’t know if that taxi was operating for a local gang, a family, or the city. The neighborhood could be washed clean for all he knew, and he can’t really tell. He might as well be strolling Uptown with how peaceful the people look. Respecting the pedestrian signals at the crosswalks and holding doors open for each other like people in a movie.</p><p>It was strange, and Jason still felt like a stranger gliding through it. He knew it wouldn’t last and that he didn’t belong, but it couldn’t stop him from wanting more. Especially when he was being pulled deeper into this life by Dr. T and school and now whatever the fuck work study was. Sighing, he shoved his fists into his jacket pocket. One hand brushed against a familiar curve of metal. The other met a wrinkled piece of paper. He pulled it free. It was the grocery list that made it into his lunch today.</p><p>At the next light, Jason crossed the street rather than turning towards the house deciding to visit the clinic instead. </p><p>The clinic sat on the corner of a shady street one block down from the main drag. It was a brick building with windows across three sides. The building is divided into two businesses; Dr. T’s being street side and Paula Isley’s Holistic Health running along the narrow alley. The business sits on a plot of land that’s separated by a sturdy fence. Isley’s half is filled with plants, flowering vines, and decoratively curved arbors while the other end is neatly manicured with a lone shade tree growing tall in the back corner.</p><p>The afternoon nurse buzzed Jason through to the waiting area. He leaned against the high desk until she finished her call.</p><p>“Hey! Dr. T around?”</p><p>“She’s upstairs. No patients until 4.”</p><p>The second floor housed the employee break area and offices. Leslie’s office was in the back of the building overlooking the yard on one side. The street view was half-hidden by the signage surrounding the balcony that had a table and chairs outside. Her office opened to a small examination room. Jason peeked inside once, and it was clean and tidy as the rooms downstairs.</p><p>Leslie walked out of the kitchen area with a cup of tea in one hand. She smiled upon seeing Jason. “What are you doing here, kiddo?”</p><p>“Nah. Just had a question before I went to the store.” He waggled the small list stuck to his fingers. </p><p>“My grocery list? Now how did you get a hold of that?”</p><p>“It was stuck to my lunch.”</p><p>Leslie folded her arms in consternation and tapped the file folder clutched in her hands tapped twice before she laughed ruefully. “I was in such a rush this morning. Thank you for bringing it over.”</p><p>“Hold up. I’m not bringing you the list. I’m going to the grocery store for you,” Jason said. “Is this everything?”</p><p>Leslie smiled. “I think so. Oh wait. Can you add yams to the list?” </p><p>“Can you slow cook those?”</p><p>“Yes you can, wise guy. But I think roasting them would be better. Better get some brown sugar as well.”</p><p>“Got it.” Jason clicked his pen and tucked into his backpack, then pulled out the stack of paperwork. “I’m supposed to give this to you. You have to read through it and sign it before Monday.”</p><p>Leslie insisted on flipping through the initial pages before Jason left. “Work study, huh? Well, it’s pretty straightforward. You’ll leave campus around 2 and work no more than 20 hours a week. I do like this part.” She pointed to the requirements list. Jason looked over her shoulder and groaned at the number of bullet points under the final presentation.</p><p>“Have you given any thought to what you’d like to do?”</p><p>“No. Not. Not really.” There was a time when he did have dreams of who he wanted to be. They faded a long time ago. He didn’t think he’d make it far enough to even have the chance to be anyone.</p><p>“Hmm. Well, you have some time, but the clinic is an option if you’re interested.”</p><p>“You mean helping you around here?”</p><p>“Yes. It’s not the most exciting job, but we’re used to interns here. And you’ll have another opportunity to try something else next year too, since this is last minute to you in comparison to your peers. They’ve probably been lining up prospective jobs for a year now. It’s that important.”</p><p>Judging by the way his classmates spoke about it, Jason wasn’t surprised by that idea. Leslie’s confidence in offering a job did surprise him though.</p><p>“Are you sure I can do it?”</p><p>“Jason, I know you can,” she replied, very serious.</p><p>Strangely, after hearing the conviction in her voice, Jason thought he could too.</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Jason’s Civics and Society class began at noon with the television news droning in the background while the teacher passed classwork to students. It was supposed to be for understanding current events, but Jason took advantage of the time as most of the class did: fifteen minutes to catch up. He just happens to limit it to school work while his peers caught up with each other. Jason flipped through his notebook reviewing his past two weeks lecture notes and writing responses. His teacher always wears a patterned tie on quiz days, and Jason did little more than glance over his reading assignment last night.</p><p>The low drone of the classroom is interrupted by a volume spike from the television.</p><p>“We interrupt our special report on disappearing teens in Hawthorne Heights for breaking news. The Batman has been sighted entering the Bay Bridge Memorial Bank.”</p><p>Jason’s head snapped toward the tv to view shaky phone footage of the event. It showed a dark figure sweeping through a door. It was followed by another shorter shape slinking from shadow to shadow and then the door closing behind them.</p><p>The class erupted in excited conversation.  Gotham had more or less accepted its hero a long time ago, but he was rarely filmed at all let alone during the daytime. The newscaster seemed just as excited, calling for the footage to be slowed and zoomed in real time. It was very blurry, little more than a blurry line on a hazy wall, but Jason couldn’t tear his gaze away from the footage replaying over and over again, hungry for a glance.</p><p>Most days he thought he dreamed it all. The alley and the Batmobile. Robin’s glowing eyes and Batman’s intimidating everything. But he knew it had been real. It had to be. Jason had one lug nut in his pocket as proof.</p><p>Some nights Jason did dream of the event. Shallow and slightly off, it would play back for him, a distorted looping sequence that wasn’t real but felt close. Thick fog, the slow drip of water onto his face, the pain of his hand slamming against the car door when Robin picked him up by his collar and slammed him against the wall. Jason tried scrambling away, but the brick wall would not give, and Robin’s finger on his chest pinned him in place like an insect on a display box at the museum. Robin grinned at him, something slow and dangerous, and it made Jason’s stomach knot and his mouth go dry.</p><p>“Look what I caught, Batman.” Robin’s lean figure faded away and Batman appeared in his place, tall as a statue, eyes filled with a light so bright Jason had to turn his head away.</p><p>Batman grabbed him, but the hands around his throat were bare. Wincing, he looked down to see the bloody, tattooed hands and Tony was the one shaking him, shouting at the little bastard that dared shove him down. His face peeled open with wet, grimy plop, and Dumont stood in his place, slamming him into a wall. Jason’s head rang and his vision blurred while the faces changed to sharp-eyed Joey Falcone, Louis, and other men he couldn’t stop. But he tried. He really fucking tried. Was trying to get to her, her cries muffled by the bedroom door he was rammed against it desperate to make it all stop. To save her. He has to save….. </p><p>Jason’s eyes flew open, a shout echoing in the air around him, but he was all alone.</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Working at the clinic wasn’t glamorous.</p><p>There was an entire week of online training for federal and state laws and protecting patient information put together in videos designed to put you to sleep within the first five minutes. Jason found himself blinking awake often, but he made it through. He was rewarded with becoming the stock boy handling the afternoon intake of mail and distributing the supplies around the office. Boring, but working with the clinic staff was interesting. The staff were already familiar with him, and the nurses—Rochelle, Jennifer, and Addy took time to teach him about patient intake and records. Dr. Jordan, the other practicing doctor in the clinic, would talk to him about the medical field in general and interesting cases he saw while working as a traveling doctor. </p><p>Jason finished breaking down the boxes for the day’s shipment and began taking them out to the trash. On his way down the alley, he met Paula Isley, the owner of the holistic store cautiously navigating three heavy bags down the stairs. Paula was a short, round-cheeked lady with soft strawberry blonde hair and a patient smile. She always smelled like a flower store, but in a good way.</p><p>“Do you need me to help you with that?”</p><p>Her worried face broke into a grin. “Hi Jason. If it wouldn’t trouble you.”</p><p>“Sure thing.”</p><p>Jason tossed the boxes first and then added the heavy cloth sacks into the bin. Finished, he dusted his hands, saying, “That weighed a ton.”</p><p>“It was high time I threw out some of my broken pots and other things collecting dust. I’ll need all the extra space come harvest,” she said. “No come along. I want to give you something from the shop in thanks.”</p><p>“You don’t have to Ms. Isley.”</p><p>“Of course I don’t, but you’ve helped me and I’d like to help you.” She began climbing the stairs.</p><p>Jason followed her into the holistic store. Despite the rows of shelving, the shop felt open, and the natural products lining the shelves pleasing to the eye. There were a dozen packages Jason wanted to check out, but he hurried along to the refrigerated items on the back wall.</p><p>Humming, Paula took out four different bottles of all-natural juice and soy-based smoothies and pressed them into his hand. “These will do for a start. Oh, and these too.” She grabbed a few snack bars and carried them to the register.</p><p>“What are these for?”</p><p>“I said I wanted to help you,” Paula replied. Her hands moved quickly, bagging the items and grabbing a few more from here and there. “You look tired, Jason, I can see it. Children are like plants and need proper nourishment so they can grow properly. These foods will help with that. This tea,” she holds up a small tin before stuffing it into the cotton sack, “Will help you relax before you sleep at night. Only pleasant dreams.”</p><p>Something in his expression must have shown his shock or his hesitance because Paula pushed the sack into his hands and said, “It’s not obvious. I’ve just walked down a similar path. This helped me. I hope it will help you.”</p><p>“But it’s too much,” Jason said. “I feel like I’d have to help you out again.”</p><p>Paula laughed. “Oh, you are very much like your guardian, aren’t you? I’ll take you up on that then. Check with me in a few weeks and you can help with my harvest.”</p><p>And with that small statement, Jason found himself with two work study jobs. Eat your heart out Mallory Evans, a classmate that liked to brag about her internship at her parent’s PR firm. There wasn’t a single day that he hadn’t heard about her attending photoshoots for Gotham’s wealthiest society members and stars or the posts on her InstaReels. She was over there trying to grow a portfolio to include Charles Atwater and Richie Grayson, while Jason was improving the health and welfare of his city.</p><p>While his weekends were still dedicated to exploring the neighborhood, most of Jason’s after school hours are at the clinic and sometimes, at Paula’s shop next door. He became a regular fixture for the patients, who eventually moved from referring to him as “Leslie’s grandson/nephew” to “that fine young man.” He nearly laughed his ass off the first time he heard that. Now it only fills him with a vague twist in his gut. After three hours, he departed to the house at Leslie’s instance to study, eat dinner, and do what kids do. Whatever that means.</p><p>Jason felt he must have lived a carefree life at some point. He had the vaguest of memories where he, his mom, and his pops were happy. Those memories were few and far between, subsumed by the endless fight to keep himself at home and his mom in the present. Cooking, cleaning, helping her struggle, Jason’s always been the one to look out for the people around him.</p><p>Sometimes, when it started to creep past nine and the wailing call of sirens filled the night, Jason would throw on his hoodie and return to the clinic with the intent to walk Leslie back home. Tonight it was already past ten, and Jason’s prowl to grab water from the fridge showed no signs that Leslie returned home. He tugged on his sneakers and headed towards the door.</p><p>At night, the clinic was a soft beacon of buzzing neon hope. He hurried to the side entrance, keyed his security code into the alarm system, and headed to the second floor offices.</p><p>“Dr. T? It’s Jason. You in here?” His voice echoed down the hall heralding his approach. He turned at the end of the hall to find the office door cracked open and the warm lamp light pooling on the floor.</p><p>“Here, Jason.” She was frowning at her watch as he squeezed between the door and frame. A small mound of paperwork sat on her desk alongside a mug and tea bag drying on a saucer. “What in the world are you doing out at this hour.”</p><p>“Couldn’t sleep. Saw you were still out. Thought I could walk you home.”</p><p>“I did let time get away from me, didn’t I?” She massaged her left elbow gently. “Stuck reading through these patient files. And no, you can’t peek.”</p><p>“I’m not going to sell your PHI. It’d be better if it were all digital anyway.”</p><p>“I incinerate the shredded copies,” Leslie grumbled. She grabbed her coat from the office chair. “Come on, let’s go home.”</p><p>The words had no sooner left her lips when the balcony door slammed open. A dark shape emerged from the dark that quickly resolved itself to be Batman, heavily slumped across Robin’s shoulders.</p><p>“Dr. T, we need your help!” Robin clutched Batman to him and half dragged, half carried him in his arms. He was halfway to the examination room door, when he noticed the tension in the room. He stumbled around and found a fourth party in the room with them; Jason awkwardly staring at them with a mix of fear and awe in his eyes.</p><p>It all came together in that moment. Batman and Robin coming to Dr. T for help. This meant he hadn’t been dreaming. His encounter with the caped crusaders really happened. And they were right here in front of him.</p><p>“You didn’t say we had company,” Robin said, accusingly, and Jason couldn’t react to the words. His hands shook and his stupid tongue felt fat in his mouth.</p><p>“You didn’t ask.” Leslie switched her comfortable car coat back to her doctor’s jacket. “Bring him in.” The no nonsense tone of voice spurred Robin into action. He followed Leslie into the private examination room dragging a stumbling Batman along and leaving Jason alone.</p><p>Shocked, he stood in the entrance staring after the dynamic duo. And his guardian.</p><p>He couldn’t move. All he could see was the sweat pooling around Batman’s mouth and the splatter of dark liquid left on the floor. Blood. Jesus. The Batman could bleed?</p><p>The door to the examination room opened, and Robin exited. He looked exhausted, shoulders round and dragging fingers through his hair. He gazed around the room, a tired bobbing that Jason could track from the faint illumination from his goggles. Robin stopped once he spied Jason, and blanched. </p><p>“You’re still here?” He folds his arms beneath his heavy cape that falls to his knees cloaking him from the world. He seemed just as imperceptible as he had that night, despite being closer.</p><p>“Yeah, I’m still here,” Jason muttered. “Unlike you, I’m the one who actually lives around here.”</p><p>“Sure about that?”</p><p>“You sound like Burnside, so yeah, I’m sure.”</p><p>Robin met his comment with silence. His attention was clearly behind the door. Batman must have been worse off than it looked, and he looked pretty bad. Jason recognized that stance of being posted by the door waiting and too worried to do anything but be ready for something. Anything.  It forced Jason to move. He grabbed a rolling chair and swung out towards Robin.</p><p>“You can at least sit while she works on your dad,” Jason offered. “Dr. T will make sure he’s okay.”</p><p>Robin swung towards him, hands on his hips. “That’s my partner,” he said, and then winced, reaching up to grab his side. His movements dislodge the cape allowing Jason to see the discolored tin to the fabric or the red splatters on the wooden floor.</p><p>“You’ve got a whole ass gash in your body and you didn’t say anything?” Jason exclaimed. “What the hell happened?”</p><p>Robin tried to shrug and then hissed. “There were a lot of dudes.”</p><p>“You should’ve told Dr. T about this.”</p><p>“I think she has more things to worry about right now. I can wait.”</p><p>“Sit down before you fall down, alright.” Swallowing, Jason met the glowing glare and pushed the seat for emphasis. He nearly stumbled with relief when Robin finally crossed over to him and sat down. </p><p>This was the closest they have ever been to one another. Jason stared down at the whorl of heavy dark hair at the top of Robin’s head and the pale skin exposed between the nape of his neck and the collar of his cape. Robin smelled like sweat and hot pavement, and Jason could barely get his mouth to form solid words when he explained grabbing the first-aid kit from the storage. Robin nodded, so he must have made sense. Jason hoped he did.</p><p>He returned a few moments later with the box of supplies he’d been made familiar with last week and began unpacking the equipment. Robin moved in his peripheral vision, and Jason turned to find him grimacing in pain as he pulled part of his uniform behind his neck. Costume. Padding. Under armor. Whatever it was that went below the red armor that was already lying on the floor and exposed his entire golden chest to Jason. A jagged cut sliced the skin near his waist, fresh compared to the faint discoloration and puckered skin that Jason was all too familiar with. He had his own roadmap of scars trailing over his body.</p><p>“I... I could’ve helped with that,” he whispered before turning away. His cheeks burned. His ears burned. His heart throbbed.</p><p>“Just making myself useful.”</p><p>Jason mentally shook himself. He had to focus. He pulled on a pair of gloves before handling the disinfecting spray. “Ask for help, alright. Time is an essential part of the healing process, and you don’t want to waste any. If the doc’s busy, come to me.”</p><p>“Been here two months and you’re already a licensed professional, huh?”</p><p>“You want help or not?” Jason snapped, stung.</p><p>The silence went so long, Jason was forced to turn back around. Anger helped blunt his nervousness at seeing Robin exposed in front of him. </p><p>Robin’s lips parted, and then he sighed. “I do need help.” He fumbled with his belt for a moment and pulled out a roll of plastic. “I don’t think Dr. T has shown you where the good stuff is, so, use this instead of stitches.”</p><p>Nose wrinkling, Jason collected the material. Inside were strips of flesh colored material with an adhesive on the back. “Is this safe?”</p><p>“Wouldn’t carry it if it wasn’t.”</p><p>Where did he get the balls to say he could help Robin? Why did Robin accept. Was it really that bad? If it was that bad, wouldn’t it be better to wait for Dr. T to check him out? Those self-recriminating thoughts circled through Jason’s head as he gently cleaned away the dried gore around his side. Robin’s silence wasn’t helping. But it wasn’t hurting either. Jason relaxed imperceptibly once he had a clear view of the wound. It was shallow and bleeding sluggishly. Frankly, Jason’s seen a lot worse. His hands stopped shaking, and he finished easily, applying the healing unguent, cause, and then sealing the wound with the adhesive wrap Robin supplied him.</p><p>Robin touched the bandage gingerly then offered Jason a quiet smile. “Thank you, Jason.”</p><p>It was the first time he’d heard anyone say his name exactly like that. Surprised and grateful. It shot straight through Jason’s heart. He turned away again to hide the grin spreading dopily across his face.  </p><p>“I figured I owed you one. For the whole me being here thing,” he said.</p><p>“I… don’t know what you’re talking about.”</p><p>Jason snorted. “Look man, I ain’t stupid. A lot of things make sense now that I know you two know Dr. T, so. Thanks.”</p><p>Robin ducked his head. “I didn’t have that much to do with it.” </p><p>“If you’re trying to tell me all of this is on Batman’s dime, I ain’t buying it. I bricked his ride on the edge of Fall Boys territory. He was probably two seconds away from tossing me in Blackgate.”</p><p>Robin laughed then. It was a bright sound, coaxing Jason to catch sight of it. He peaked at the corner of his eyes and saw the smile he remembered on Robin’s lips. The one he caught a glimpse of as a kid. The one that made him think Robin was the most beautiful, most amazing thing he’d ever seen in his young life flying high and free above the city.</p><p>“You’d be surprised,” said Robin. “Hey, you like the laptop though?”</p><p>“It’s alright. Someone dumped a whole bunch of games on there. Don’t have anyone to play them with though.”</p><p>“Oh yeah? What’s your username?”</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>After Dr. Thompkins gave strict instructions that were more a formality than not, Batman and Robin disappeared like the shadows touched by the first rays of sunlight. They took something out of the air with them, danger, excitement,, and left a silence Jason tried to fill with action. He rattled the instruments as he washed them, cleaned the trace fluids with disinfecting liquid, and swept while Dr. Thompkins took the bloody towels and bandages down to the incinerator. </p><p>The room looked pristine when she returned, dispelling all traces of the harrowing night in short minutes. She sat behind her desk and gestured for Jason to take his own seat. He avoided the one chair Robin sat in and settled into the patient chair.</p><p>It was crazy. It was unbelievable. It… wasn’t a surprise, for the doctor at least. In contrast, Jason felt like he was still floating through a dream, and he couldn’t find the right words to ask about what just happened. </p><p>Finally, Dr. Thompkins spoke. “I expect you have questions, Jason.”</p><p>Of course he had questions. Anyone would have questions. He managed to sneak another peek at her while avoiding that piercing gaze. He’d spent most of the night staring at her, surreptitiously, short, grey-haired Doctor T stitching Batman up after a rough fight. It made sense. Someone had to do it. Someone had to help the Dark Knight if the Savior of Gotham was only human. But there were too many secrets involved here, and none of them his. He only knew that he was now a part of it too.</p><p>“Yeah,” Jason said, roughly. “Can you teach me how to do stitches?”</p><p>Humming, Leslie relaxed into her high back chair. Wrinkles creased at the corner of her eyes as she sadly smiled at him. It was the first time he had seen her look her age. </p><p>“I can teach you a few things…. Just in case.”</p><p>Those things expanded on the basic training Jason received when starting at the clinic, like CPR and basic first aid, but Leslie started bringing in anatomy and physiology into their afternoon chats, which introduced Jason to the science of motion, and discussions about Dr. Jordan’s college internships with Cademus Lab research labs. He returned with four books on kinesiology after his last trip to the library. It should have been overwhelming, but Jason felt like a sponge eager to be filled with knowledge.</p><p>Dr. T encouraged him within reason, and the other staff were helpful as well. In fact, no one commented on how often Jason stayed late at the clinic or returned before after hours. He’d even taken up doing his homework in the staff office claiming it was better for his concentration. Leslie smirked at him a time or too, but she didn’t call him out about it.</p><p>Each day that passed without Batman and Robin failed to make an appearance only urged Jason to study more. He wanted to be ready for the next time.</p><p>It was another surprise entrance, not even nine o’clock and two shadows swept into the office. Both Batman and Robin were without capes and dripping water on the doctor’s wooden floors.</p><p>“Would it hurt for you to at least call in advance?” Leslie muttered, bustling into the examination table. Her voice carried behind her. “At least it wasn’t the sewers this time.” </p><p>Rather than follow, Batman stared at Jason, who eventually tore his gaze away from Robin to glare back. </p><p>“I’ll go get a mop,” he said, after sufficient time had passed. A grin flashed his direction before Robin turned away.</p><p>Jason left the room and exhaled deeply. He didn’t try to show it, but he had been really freaking nervous in there. Last time, Batman was out of it. Probably didn’t know Jason was there until Robin told him afterwards, but today he was standing tall as a lamp post and wide as a door with the same glowing eyes in his mask as Robin’s. Super freaky shit right there. No wonder all the stories made him into a monster.</p><p>A monster that remained in the exact same place Jason left him dripping like a human-sized rain cloud. The sound of water dripping was irritating. Jason dropped the mop to the floor and began dragging it across the floor. There was a lot of it. A lot.</p><p>“Did you guys go for a dip in the bay?” Jason muttered to himself, then jolted when Batman’s deep voice cut through the air.</p><p>“Mr. Freeze.”</p><p>“Oh…. Oh, yeah. Makes sense. Uh. You want some tea or something? Help you warm up.”</p><p>A pregnant pause and then Batman shifted.</p><p>“No.” The word was flat, clearly as eager to end this conversation as Jason was to leap out of the room, but Batman was here and someone available to talk to. Jason had something to say.</p><p>Taking a deep breath, Jason turned to face him. “I’m not going to tell anyone, alright. So you don’t have to do the whole intimidating thing. Standing there. Looking like a fucking Mac truck. I know you could take me out before I could blink. But I’m not a snitch. You do a lot of good and Dr. T. She’s been helping you for a long time. I’ll help keep your secret.”</p><p>“I didn’t want to drop water everywhere.”</p><p>Jason blinked several times rapidly but the world remained out of sync with his equilibrium. “Cool. I’m just gonna.” He pointed towards the door, but Batman didn’t move and his glowing eyes didn’t blink. They just beamed down on Jason like spotlights pinning him in place.</p><p>Batman’s mouth did a weird thing and he said, “You can leave, Jason. Leslie’s safe with us. You are as well.”</p><p>It didn’t sound like a threat. In fact, the words sounded the opposite. He nodded. “Thanks for that. You too. You and Robin, I mean. I won’t let you down.”</p><p>After unsticking his feet from the floor, Jason escaped with the deep sense that Batman was laughing at him.</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Jason joined the throng of people exiting the el-train near Midtown. He was half an hour early to meet some school acquaintances for a movie. It was another sign of change in his life that he had friends and they wanted to do normal things like go to a matinee and grab pizza. Weird but cool too. </p><p>After descending the stairs, Jason pulled to the side of a building to make sure he was headed in the right direction on Rockwell street. He had just confirmed he needed to head left and not right at the corner when something heavy slams against his shoulder. His phone flew out of his hand and hit the ground.</p><p>A stunningly stunning guy with bright blue eyes and a horrified expression turned around and gawked at Jason. “Oh shit, I am so sorry.” </p><p>He retrieved the phone before Jason could react and made a big show of cleaning it off while a tall, russet haired girl with pink lips looked on in amusement. Seriously? What the hell was funny about this?</p><p>“Just give me my fucking phone man,” Jason snapped, trying to snatch it from the guy’s hands. It was his first phone ever, and he wasn’t about to see it smashed by some clumsy uptown bastard. No matter how hot he was.</p><p>Jason dragged his gaze back up from the designer sneakers, fitted jeans, and tailored jacket over layered paisley t-shirts to the guy’s face. Bright blue eyes, soft pouting mouth. Fuck. They gazed at each other for a long time, until the guy ducked his head, a small smile on his lips.</p><p>“Do you need something?” he asked, and now he sounded like he was in on the joke.</p><p>“My phone,” Jason grunted, then flushed when he realized it was back in his hand. He shoves it into his pocket after flipping through the screens. It still worked.</p><p>“Do you think you need a new one,” the guy said suddenly, casually like he had an extra in the leather satchel hanging by his hip.</p><p>“You just be handing out phones like that? Who are you? The Wayne Foundation?”</p><p>The guy’s expression shifts, eyes widening and mouth parting like he’s found the right song but forgot all the lyrics. Jason stared at the faint color staining the guys cheeks and marveling at how they’re basically the same height when he hears his name shouted in the distance.</p><p>“Yo! Jay, over here!”</p><p>He turned to see Kennedy, TJ, and Mallory heading from the opposite direction. When he turned back the guy and the girl had disappeared, swallowed by the flow of foot traffic most likely. He laughed to himself quietly, thinking a free phone from a hot guy really was too good to be true. </p><p>His friends caught up to him and they greeted each other.</p><p>“Who were you talking to?” Kennedy asked. </p><p>Jason shrugged. “Some guy made me drop my phone. He was just saying he was sorry.” </p><p>“Looked like you two were about to throw down.”</p><p>Mallory groaned. “Oh my god, TJ. What is it with you and Jason and fighting?”</p><p>TJ grinned. “The guy looked like he could fight.”</p><p>“He looked hot!” Kennedy said.</p><p>Mallory curled a finger into her red curls. “He looked familiar. Like a model or something, do you think--”</p><p>Jason started walking to the theater. “He was just some guy.”</p><p>It wasn’t the oddest thing to happen to him lately, and the incident was quickly forgotten. His head was still swimming with the knowledge that Dr. T not only knew Batman personally, she had no issue scolding him like he was a recalcitrant schoolboy and not the person responsible for single-handedly saving Gotham from crisis on a weekly basis. Batman took that and came to her for help when he needs someone he can trust.</p><p>And Jason was walking around with this secret every single day. Moreover, Batman knew that Jason knew and. It really is the second greatest most terrifying thing to happen to him. </p><p>Above that choice bit of life changing information was the fact that Jason had Robin’s gaming handle on his PlayBox account friend’s list, the only name that appeared: 53N5UAL_W@@k13. </p><p>It was so fucking crazy, but it didn’t stop there. He’s started posting private videos on his InstaReels, personal logs of his afternoons helping around Paula’s garden. It was a good way to review the care instructions he’d learned while filming the growth stages of the plants in a way that could be relevant to his biology presentation at the end of the semester. Despite them being private, he received likes from a user with no name but a picture of a red breasted bird as their avatar.</p><p>The first time Jason noticed the reaction to his vid, he had flipped out in the privacy of his own room. Hot face buried in a pillow while he punched at the sky. The second time, days later, he could only like the liked reply and then spent two whole hours regretting the action.</p><p>Jason clutched the phone in his hands and stared at the message waiting to be sent. He spent almost an hour crafting it. A thought deleted and with a new one to replace it long minutes after. But like poets, he had to get it just right.</p><p>Finally, Jason settled on the right mixture of nonchalance and cool for his first message to Robin.</p><p>
  <em> Yo! You stalking me for a reason? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> :D Are we ever going to game? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Sure. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> :D :D Thursday at 8. Friend me back. </em>
</p><p><br/>
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